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.E533 

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1913 

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ONYX SERIES 



THE ETERNAL 
FEMININE 



ONYX SERIES 



THE ETERNAL 
FEMININE 



By 
CAROLYN ^A^ELLS 



NEW YORK 

FRANKLIN BIGELOW CORPORATION 

THE MORNINGSIDE PRESS 

PUBLISHERS 



Ml?Y»off't''dt»V\ 



££33^'' 



Copyright, 1913, by 
FRANKLIN BIGELOW CORPORATION 



^ 



/^^^O 



ONYX SERIES 



THE ETERNAL 
FEMININE 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

AT THE LOST-AND-FOUND DESK 

YES, that's my bag. I left it at the lace coun- 
ter. Thank you. Please give it to me. 
What? I must prove property? Why, 
don't you see it's mine? That twisty silver mono- 
gram on the side is really E. C. S. That's my name, 
Ella C. Saunders. I told Jim I thought the letters 
were too wiggly to be easily read, but I never 
thought anybody'd want to read it but me. De- 
scribe contents? Why, of course I can describe the 
contents! In one pocket is a sample of lace, just 
Platte Val, you know, not an expensive lace, and 
with it — I think it's with it — is a sample of rose- 
colored crepe de Chine — ^that is, not exactly rose- 
colored — sort of crushed plummish or burnt magen- 
ta — ^but no — come to think, I left those samples with 
my dressmaker. Well, anyway, there's a Subway 
ticket— or let me see, did I use that coming down? 
I believe I did! Well, there's a little memorandum 
card that slips in — the celluloid sort, you know. No, 
there's nothing written on it. I don't use it because, 
though they pretend you can wash them like a slate, 
you can't. They just smudge. What do you mean 
by saying I haven't told a definite thing yet? I've 
told you lots! Well, there's some money — I don't 
know how much ; some chicken feed, as Jim calls it — 

I 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

and a five-dollar bill, I think — oh no — I paid that to 
the butcher. Well, there must be a one-dollar bill — 
two, maybe. Oh, and there's a little pencil, a goldy- 
looking one ; it came with the bag. And some pow- 
der-papers — those leaves, you know; but I believe 
I did use the last one yesterday at the matinee. Oh, 
dear, how fussy you are ! I tell you it's my bag ; I 
recognize it myself. Can't I tell you of some per- 
sonal belongings in it so you'll be sure ? Why, yes, 
of course I can. My visiting-card, Mrs. James Lr. 
Saunders, is in that small inside pocket. 

"Why didn't I tell you that in the first place? 
Why, you rattled me so; and besides, I thought I 
had to tell of my own little individual properties, 
like samples and tickets and things. Anybody might 
have her visiting-card in her bag!" 



TOOTIE AT THE BANK 

OH, how do you do? Are you the Paying Teller? 
Well, — ^that is,— could I please see somebody 
else? You see, I've just opened an account, and I 
want to get some of my money out. There's the 
loveliest hat in Featherton's window, marked down 
to — ^but, that's just it! If I get my money from a 
Professional Teller, he'll tell all about my private 
affairs, and how much I pay for my hats, and every- 
thing!" 

"Not at all. Miss. We are called Tellers because 
we never tell anything about our depositors' affairs. 
We're not allowed to." 

"Oh, how lovely ! Well, then, — ^if you won't tell — 
I've never drawn a check before, and I don't know 
how! Will you help me?" 

"Certainly; but I must ask you to make haste. 
Have you a check-book?" 

"How curt you are ! I thought you'd like to help 
me. Men 'most always do. Yes, I have a check- 
book, — ^that other clerk gave it to me. But I don't 
like it, and I want to exchange it. See, — it has a 
horrid, plain black muslin cover! Don't you have 
any bound in gray suede, with gilt edges. I'm will- 
ing to pay extra." 

"We have no other kind, Miss. How much mon- 
ey do you want?" 

"Why, I don't know. You see, Daddy put a thou- 
3 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

sand dollars in this bank for me. I suppose I may 
as well take it all at once. What do you think?" 

"I think probably your father meant for you to 
take only a part of it at a time." 

"Yes; I think so, too. He said it would teach me 
business habits. He chose this bank because you 
have a special department for ladies. But if this 
is it, I don't think much of it. To be sure the plate 
glass and mahogany are all right, — ^but it looks like 
'put up complete for $74.99.' Don't you think Mis- 
sion furniture and Chintz would be cozier? Yes, 
yes, I'll draw my check ! Do give me a moment to 
draw my breath first. You see I'm not used to these 
things. Why, with a real bank account of my own, 
I feel like an Organized Charity ! I suppose I ought 
to hunt up some Worthy Poor! Well, I'll just get 
that hat first. Now, let me see. Oh, yes, of course 
you may help me, but I want to do the actual draw- 
ing myself. It's the only way to learn. Why, when 
I took Art lessons, I made a burnt-wood sofa pillow 
all myself! The teacher just stood and looked at 
me. He said I had Fate-sealing eyes. Why, you're 
looking at my eyes just the way he did ! You seem 
so rattled, — ^why do you? Don't you know how to 
draw a check, either?" 

"Oh, yes, indeed; I have drawn millions of 
checks." 

"Millions of checks! How exciting! What do 
you do with all your money?" 

"Oh, it isn't my money, you know." 

"Aren't you ashamed to be drawing millions and 
billions of other people's money! I have a friend 
who is engaged to a bank president who got caught 
drawing checks." 

4 



TOOTIE AT THE BANK 

"Excuse me, but how much money do you want to 
draw?" 

"How much is it customary for ladies to draw?" 

"Well, that depends upon how much they need." 

"Oh, I see. People in need draw more than those 
in comfortable circumstances, I suppose. I am not 
exactly what would be called 'a needy person.' 
Since I left school, of course, I have my own allow- 
ance. Do you approve of girls being put on an al- 
lowance, or do you think it is nicer for them to have 
accounts with the trades-people, and not be treated 
like children?" 

"I should think that would depend. Would a 
check for $100.00 be enough for today? What did 
you have in mind to use it for?" 

"I think you are very impertinent. I am surprised 
that people in banks are allowed to ask such ques- 
tions. Why should you concern yourself with how 
much money I want?" 

"I was endeavoring to help you about your check." 

"Oh, yes, certainly. How could you possibly 
draw checks if you didn't know how much the 
checks were to be ! I like checks much better than 
stripes or plaids. Lucille is making me a beautiful 
walking suit that is the loveliest imported check that 
you ever saw. And checks are nice for men, don't 
you think?" 

"Is it for the hat or for the suit that you want 
to draw a check?" 

"Yes, of course, it is for the hat at Featherton's 
that I want the check. I am afraid you will think 
I am silly, but really I have so many things to 
think about that it is hard to keep my mind on just 
one thing. You must make allowances for girls who 

5 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

have so many things to think about. Of course, 
with a man like you, who only has checks and mon- 
ey to think about all day long, it is so easy — I'd be 
bored if I had nothing but money and checks all day. 
I should think it would be diverting to have some- 
body call and talk about something else." 

"It is. Come, now, let us make out this check. 
You must write the number first." 

"Oh, isn't it exciting! Now, wait, let me do it. 
You just watch out that it's all right. But are you 
sure you know how yourself? I'd rather have an 
Expert to teach me. You know, nowadays, skilled 
labor counts in everything." 

"I assure you I'm competent in this matter, but I 
must beg you to make haste. Write the number in 
this blank." 

"What number?" 

"Number one, of course. It's your first check." 

"There! I knew you were ready to tell every- 
thing! Suppose it is my first check, I don't want 
everybody to know it. Can't I begin with a larger 
number, and then go right on?" 

"Why, yes, I suppose you can, if you like. Begin 
with loo." 

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I'll begin with 4887. 
I can make lovely 7's. Don't you think 4887 is a 
pretty number?'* 

"Very pretty, but — " 

"Now you're wasting time. There, I've written 
the number. What next?" 

"The date, please. And the year." 

"Well, I've written the date, but it spilled all over 
the year space. It doesn't matter, though, 'cause it'll 
be this year for a long while yet, and this check will 

6 



TOOTIE AT THE BANK 

be vouched, or whatever you call it, before the year 
is out." 

"But you must write the year." 

"But how can I, when there isn't room?" 

"Tear that up, and begin a new check." 

"And waste all that money! Oh, I didn't want 
an account, anyway! I told Daddy it would make 
me more extravagant! And you're so cross to me. 
And here, I've spoiled a lot of my money the first 
thing !" 

"Oh, no. Miss Young, you haven't ! There, there, 
don't look so distressed! I'll make it all right for 
you." 

"You'll make it all right! How dare you, sir? 
Do you dream for a moment I'd take your money 
to replace my own losses ?" 

"Now, wait, you don't understand. This check is 
worthless until it's signed. Now, we'll tear it out, 
so, and begin again. Make smaller letters and fig- 
ures, can't you?" 

"Oh, how cute that check comes out! You just 
tear it by the little perforated dots, don't you? Let 
me tear one out!" 

"Write it first; you'll probably spoil it, and have 
to tear it out." 

"How unkind you are! And I'm doing my very 
best. Don't find fault with me, — please, don't !" 

"Well, don't wrinkle up your nose like that, — it 
looks like a crumpled rose petal! And don't write 
your name there ! That's the place for the amount !" 

"Oh, what a fuss! What does it matter, so long 
,as all the spaces are filled ? My goodness, the check's 
all done, isn't it? And it's quite entirely all right, 
isn't it?" 

7 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

"Yes, it's irreproachable. How will you have the 
money?" 

"If I take the money, do I have to give you this 
check?" 

"Certainly." 

"Then I won't take any money, thank you. I 
want to take this check home and show it to Daddy. 
He'll be so pleased and proud ! I know he'll keep it 
as a souvenir, and then he'll give me some of his 
money for the hat !" 



THE DRESSMAKER IN THE HOUSE 



SCENE. — A sewing-room, with the usual piles of 
unfinished or unmended clothing heaped on ta- 
bles and chairs. Mrs. Lester, a pretty, fussy little 
woman, is trying on her own gowns and then tossing 
them aside, one after another. 

Enter Miss Cotton, a visiting dressmaker. 

Mrs. Lester: Oh, Miss Cotton, I'm so glad you've 
come ! I'm nearly frantic. Excuse the looks of this 
sewing-room. I don't see why a sewing-room never 
can keep itself cleared up! I suppose it's because 
they never have any closets in them ; or if they do, 
you have to hang your best dresses there — there's no 
other place. And so this room gets simply jammed 
with white work and mending and hats, and I don't 
know what all! My husband says it's like the Ro- 
man Forum done in dry-goods. But he's a regular 
Miss Nancy about neatness and order. Now, to- 
day. Miss Cotton, we're going to do sleeves. See? 
Sleeves ! And nothing else. I'm simply driven crazy 
by them. 

Oh, don't look as if you didn't know what I 
meant! You know, all my gowns have elbow 

9 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

sleeves, and I must either have long ones put in or 
throw the whole dress away. 

Yes, I know I said I'd wear the short sleeves, if 
other people did insist on having long ones. I know 
I said I'd be independent, and at least wear out the 
ones I have. But I'm conquered! I admit it! It 
isn't any fun to go to a luncheon and be the only 
woman at the table with elbow sleeves ! 

Yesterday I went to Mrs. Ritchie's Bridge, and 
my partner, that big Mrs. Van Winkle, with 
chains of scarabs all over her chest till she 
looked like the British Museum, kept pulling 
her long sleeves down farther over her knuckles 
just to annoy me. 

Yes, I know it, my forearm is white and round, 
but I declare it makes me feel positively indecent to 
go with it bared nowadays. If those suffrage people 
would only get for women the right to bare arms, 
they'd do something worth while. 

No, indeed, I can't afford to get new gowns. 
These are too good to throw away. 

Well, they may not be the latest style, but I don't 
want those bolster-slip arrangements for mine. 

Mrs. Van Bumpus, now — you know her, don't 
you? Well, it would take two kimonos to go round 
her, I'm sure; and I saw her the other day in one 
of those clinging satin rigs. My! she looked ex- 
actly like a gipsy-wagon, the kind that has canvas 
stretched over its ribs. 

No, it's sleeves, sleeves, I'm after to-day — and 
that's why I sent for you. 

I'm going to superintend them, you understand, 
but I want you to help, and to do the plain sewing. 

Well, to begin on this mauve crepon. I want to 

lO 



THE DRESSMAKER IN THE HOUSE 

wear it this afternoon, and I think we can easily get 
it done, between us. 

I've bought a paper pattern — I bought three — for 
I mean to spare no expense in getting my sleeves 
right. 

So I bought three different makes, and think this 
one is best. It was a sort of bargain, too, for they 
sold the sleeve pattern and a pattern for little boys' 
pajamas, all for ten cents. I don't know what to do 
with the pajamas pattern — so that does seem a 
waste. I've no little boy, and I shouldn't make pa- 
jamas for him if I had. I think the one-piece 
nighties far more sensible. If you know of any one 
who has a little boy, I'll sell that pattern for half 
price. Still, ten cents wasn't much to pay for this 
sleeve pattern. You see, it's really three sleeve pat- 
terns. One plain, with dart ; one plain, without dart ; 
and one tucked. I'll use them all, in different waists, 
but for this mauve crepon, I think, we'll try the 
tucked one. It would be sweet in net or chiffon. 
Yes, I bought both materials, for I didn't know 
which you'd think prettier; I trust a great deal to 
your judgment and experience, though I always rely 
on my own taste. 

Now, here's the tucked sleeve. Merciful powers! 
Look at the length of it! Oh, it's to be tucked all 
the way up, you see, and that brings it the right 
length. Wouldn't it be easier to cut the sleeve from 
net already tucked? No, that's so — I couldn't match 
the shade in tucked stuff of any sort. I tried in 
seven shops. Well, let's see. These rows of per- 
forations match these rows. No— that isn't right. 
That would make the tucks wider than the spaces. 
Why, I never saw such millions of perforations in 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

one piece of paper before! Look here, this isn't a 
sleeve pattern at all! It's a Pianola roll! I'm go- 
ing to put through and see if it isn't that old thing 
in F, or something classic. Cut out the tucked 
sleeve, Miss Cotton. Oh, wait, I didn't mean that 
literally ! My husband reproves me so often for us- 
ing slang. I mean, I won't have my arms done up 
in Bach's fugues ; I should feel like a hand-organ. 

Let's try this plain sleeve with dart. H'm — "lay 
the line of large perforations lengthwise of the ma- 
terial." And here are large perforations sprinkled 
all over the thing ! Oh, no, that isn't the way ! Yes, 
I'm quite willing you should show me, if you know 
yourself — but I see these directions confuse you as 
much as they do me ; and if there's to be a mistake 
made in cutting this expensive material, I'd rather 
make it myself. This says, "developed in pique it 
will produce satisfactory results." Well, I can't 
wear pique sleeves in a crepon gown ! Can I ? There 
— I've cut it! Now, "close seam, gather between 
double crosses, make no seam where there are three 
crosses, bring together corresponding lines of per- 
forations — and finish free edges"! Well! I rather 
guess those free edges will finish me! However, 
baste it up. Miss Cotton, and I'll try it on. It's easy 
to make sleeves, after all, isn't it? 

Why ! I can't begin to get my arm into that pipe- 
stem! What? I should have allowed seams? Why 
didn't you tell me? Oh, no, I didn't scorn your ad- 
vice ! Why, that's what I have you here for ! Well, 
those sleeves are ruined. A living skeleton couldn't 
get into those. It's most confusing, the way some 
patterns allow seams and some don't. I was going 
to get one with "all seams allowed," but it had an- 

12 



THE DRESSMAKER IN THE HOUSE 

other part to it — a "brassiere." I don't know what 
that is, but probably some sort of a brass pot or 
other bric-a-brac junk, and I don't want any more 
of that. The den is full now. Well, I'm tired of 
making sleeves. What do you think, Miss Cotton, 
of just adding lace lower halfs? I bought a lovely 
pair, in case the sleeves didn't turn out well. Now, 
I'll put on the bodice, and you pin them on, and we'll 
see how they look. 

Oh, they're not nearly long enough ! They ought 
to come well below my wrists. And such beautiful 
lace — ^it's a shame not to use them. Yes, perhaps a 
band of lace at the elbow might help. No, that looks 
awfully patchy — ^take it away. A niching at the 
wrist? No, nobody wears that. Oh, dear, what can 
we do? I must have this gown for this afternoon! 

Here's a pair of long lace sleeves, whole ones, I 
bought in case I needed them. Would they do? No 
— the lace doesn't match that on the bodice. Dye 
them? No, thank you! I bought some dye once, 
and the package said on the outside in big letters: 
"Dyeing at Home ! No trouble at all !" and it gave 
me such a turn, I never could think of wearing a 
dyed sleeve! What can I do? I believe I'll wear 
them as they are. I hate long sleeves anyway. They 
get so soiled, and they bag at the elbows, and they're 
terribly unbecoming. Oh, I've a whole black net 
guimpe ! I bought it, thinking it might be useful for 
something. Suppose we rip out these sleeves, and 
the lace neck, and just wear the bodice over this 
guimpe ! 

Oh ! oh ! it looks horrid ! just like an old-fashioned 
"jumper" suit! You'll have to put the neck back 
as it was. 

13 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

But then what can we do with the sleeves? 

Nothing! Just nothing! I shall have to stay at 
home until I can get some entirely new gowns made. 
It's a sin and shame, the way we poor women have 
to be slaves to Fashion ! And I know, just as soon 
as I am fitted out with long sleeves, the pretty, short 
ones will come in style again ! 



14 



THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 

SCENE. — The Pelhams' living room. It is dec- 
orated for Christmas, and on tables are dis- 
played many beautiful gifts that have been sent to 
Mr. and Mrs. Pelham. 

Mrs. Pelham (in pretty evening gown and a spray 
of holly in her hair, looks wistful and discontented. 
She stands by a table and fingers some of the gifts, 
and then sits at the piano and hums a snatch of 
a Christmas carol, and then throws herself into an 
easy chair. She speaks) : Dick, do stop reading 
the paper, and be Christmassy ! It might as well be 
the eighteenth of July as the twenty-fourth of De- 
cember, for all the Christmas spirit you show ! I do 
think this is the pokiest old Christmas Eve I ever 
spent, and I thought it was going to be the loveliest ! 
I thought for once I'd have ever5rthing ready ahead 
of time — and now look at the result ! Nothing to do, 
nothing to enjoy, no surprises. Everybody said, 
"Let's buy our gifts early, and so save the poor 
shopgirls' lives." And goodness knows I'm only too 
glad to help the poor shopgirls in any way I can ! 

Why, I never wait for my change, — if it's only 
a few pennies, — and you'd be surprised to see how 
pleased and surprised they are at that. It's pathetic 
to see their gratitude for six cents. Why, the other 
day Mrs. Muchmore kept me waiting with her a 

15 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

long time to get her nine cents change, and when I 
suggested that she come away without it, and let 
the shopgirl have it, she looked at me as if I had 
robbed her. Well, then we were late for the mati- 
nee, and had to take a taxicab; so she didn't make 
much, after all. 

No; I'm a great friend of the shopgirl, and I'm 
glad to do all I can for them ; but this buying Christ- 
mas presents in October is so tame and uninterest- 
ing! Then I bought all my tissue paper and holly 
ribbon and fancy seals in November; and early in 
December I had the whole lot tied up and labeled. I 
had three clothes-baskets full of the loveliest looking 
parcels! And then they sat around till I was sick 
of the sight of them ! 

Don't you remember, Dick, how you used to tum- 
ble over them in the guest rooms? And you said I 
was a dear, forehanded little wife to have them all 
ready so soon ? You'll never have such a forehanded 
little wife again, I can tell you ! 

And then, to save the poor expressman, everybody 
is urged to send their presents early nowadays. So 
I sent mine all off a week ago. And everybody sent 
theirs to me a week ago. To be sure, this plan has 
the advantage that often I can see what someone 
else sends me, before I send a return gift. My! it 
was lucky I saw Bertha Hamilton's Armenian cen- 
terpiece before I sent her that veil case ! I changed, 
and sent her an Empire mirror, and she'll think her 
centerpiece rather skinny now ! 

But, all the same, I hate this fashion. Why, I've 
had all this junk set out on tables four days now, 
and I'm tired of the sight of it. And even the 
p-p-paper and st-string are all cleared away. No— 

i6 



THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 

Dick — I'm not crying, and you needn't try to coax 
me up! Well, of course, it isn't your fault, though 
you did egg me on. But everybody does it now, and 
we've even written our notes of thanks to each 
other. I always used to dread doing those the day 
after Christmas ; but now it makes me homesick to 
think they're all d-done. And even this lovely neck- 
lace you gave me I've had it a w-week, and it doesn't 
seem like a Christmas present at all! Yes, I know 
I gave you your gold cigarette case two weeks ago ; 
but I wanted to be sure you liked it before I had it 
monogrammed. It seems now as if I had given it 
to you last year. 

Oh, I think it used to be lovely when we didn't 
get our things until Christmas Eve or Christmas 
Day — and then some belated presents would come 
straggling along for days afterward ! And the night 
before Christmas we were madly rushing around ty- 
ing up things, and I'd be up till all hours finishing 
a piece of embroidery, and you'd have to tear down- 
town for some forgotten presents, and the bundles 
were simply piling in, and the expressman would 
come at midnight, grumbling a little, but very merry 
and Christmassy! Then I'd have to set the alarm, 
and get up at five o'clock Christmas morning to 
press off my centerpiece, and pack off Clara's box, 
and do a thousand things before breakfast. And 
we'd eat breakfast by snatches between undoing par- 
cels and sending off boxes. And the rooms were 
knee-deep with a clutter of paper and strings and ex- 
celsior and shredded tissue, and — oh, it was lovely! 
And now — all that has been over for a week ! And 
it really didn't happen then ; for it's all been gradual 
since October. And here it is Christmas Eve, and 

17 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

not a thing to do ! And tomorrow morning it'll be 
■'% Christmas, and not a thing to do! Oh, Dick, it's 
perfectly horrid, and I'll never, never get ready for 
Christmas early again! I'm so lonesome for the 
hurry and rush of an old-fashioned Christmas Eve! 
What's that? You'll take me downtown — now? 
Down to the shops? 'Deed I will get my coat and 
hat! There isn't a soul left to buy a present for; 
but we can buy some things for next year — Oh, no, 
no, not that! But we'll buy some things and give 
them to the shopgirls. And, at any rate, we'll get 
into the bustle and cheer of a real Christmas Eve! 
Come on, Dick, I'm all ready! Merry Christmas, 
Dick! 



x8 



A NEW RECRUIT 

OH, GOOD MORNING, Miss Coggswell! Do 
sit down. Yes, isn't it? So spring-like and 
balmy. Oh, not at all ; I'm never busy. I'm always 
glad to see callers. On business? Oh, I don't know 
anything about business! About Suffrage! Why, 
you look so lady-like! Become a Suffragist? Me? 
Oh, I'm happily married! Oh, excuse me! I don't 
mean but what you are far happier unmarried— of 
course you are, or you wouldn't have stayed so. But 
— ^well, really, I don't know the first principles of 
this suffrage business. Not necessary? Oh, I think I 
ought to know what I'm joining; and, besides, the 
suffrage people are such frumps. What! They're 
going to dress better? Well, I'm glad of it. But, 
really, you know, I'm not a bit suffragy. Why, I'm 
afraid of a mouse, and I just love lingerie ribbons! 
And, anyway, I should vote just as Bob told me to, 
and I'm sure everyone else would, so it would just 
double the men's votes, you see. The unmarried 
women? Yes, that's so; I'd forgotten them. But I 
suppose they'd ask their brothers-in-law or their 
ministers or somebody, for you certainly can't tell 
how to vote by reading the papers! 

"Oh, it's all in the future, and you only want me 
to help the cause? What! as an ornament? Oh, 
Miss Coggswell! Why, I don't know? Who? Oh, 
Mrs. Hemingway-Curtis ! And Mrs. Vanderheyden- 

19 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

Wellsbacher! Oh, why they wear lovely clothes! 
They're the kind of people that might be called 
'classy.' I never use that word, but somehow it 
seems to fit them. They want notoriety, the same 
as the people in the country papers who have their 
back fence painted. 

"And you want me to write papers? Oh, yes, I 
could do that. I belong to the Pallas At Home Cir- 
cle. You just tell the government how to make the 
laws, and you purify politics, and things like that. 
That part is easy enough. Of course I've kept up 
with the suffrage movement; one must be intelli- 
gent. I know all about how they want the shirt- 
waist makers not to make so many waists, and I 
don't wonder! I don't wear them any more, any- 
way ; nobody does. 

"And vivisection? Oh, yes, I read a lot about 
that. They want poor, dumb animals to have a vote. 
Oh, I understand those things well enough, but I'm 
really too busy to do much about them. Oh, you 
only want me to lend my name. Yes, I do want 
honest politics; but I think they're too honest as it 
is. They won't let you smuggle in a little bit of lace 
or anything like that, as we used to do. I don't 
mind paying the customs, but it's so much more fun 
to smuggle! As if two or three little bits of lace 
would hurt the United States government! 

"Equal rights? Have half of Bob's money? Oh, 
I have more than that now! What! Some women 
don't? Well, if they don't know how to get it, they 
don't deserve to have it. 

"And, then, you see, I'm such a home-body, and 
I'm perfectly daffy over my children! You should 
see Bobbins since he had his curls cut off! Broke 

20 



A NEW RECRUIT 

my heart ; but such a duck of a mannie ! And Gwen 
is the dearest baby ! Just think ! Yesterday she was 
eating her bread and jam, and she said — Oh, well, 
of course, if you haven't time to listen — Yes, I see, — 
business. 

"Well, — Oh, I never could speak in public! Oh, 
just sit on the stage and wear lovely gowns? Yes, 
I'd rather like that. 

"Well, I suppose I might be persuaded to become 
a suffragist; but I think I'd rather have an aero- 
plane. 

"Yes, I do believe in independence. I think every 
woman ought to have a mind of her own and decide 
upon her own actions. I hate a wobbly-minded 
woman ! Well, about this suffrage business, I'll ask 
my husband and do as he says." 



21 



SHOPPING FOR POSTAGE STAMPS 

YOU keep stamps, don't you?" 
"Yes, Miss; what kind?" 
"Why, I don't know. But I want something that 
will go well with blue note paper." 

"Yes, miss; do you want letter postage?" 
"Of course ! I want to post letters, not chairs or 
tables !" 

"Where are the letters to? United States?" 
"Be careful young man, or I'll report you for rude- 
ness. I won't tell you where the letter is going, it's 
private correspondence, but it is in the United 
States." 

"Then you want a two-cent stamp ; here you are." 

"Oh, red ones! Never! Do you suppose I'd put 

that sickly shade of crushed gooseberry juice on my 

robin's egg blue envelopes ? Is this the nearest thing 

you have in two-cent stamps?" 

"The very latest style, I assure you." 
"Well, they won't do. Why, they aren't fit for 
anything, unless to make a stamp plate with. 
Haven't you any blue ones?" 

"Yes, we have a nice line of blue ones, at five 
cents each." 

"Oh, the price doesn't matter; let me see them, 
please." 

"Here they are, beautiful shade of blue." 
"H'm; good enough shade, but it doesn't quite 

22 



SHOPPING FOR POSTAGE STAMPS 

harmonize with my envelopes. You see they are a 
sorty of greenishy-blue, and your stamps are more 
indigoish. Do you expect any new ones in?" 

"Well, not any different colors." 

"Oh, dear, that's always the way! But maybe I 
could take some of these and dye them with my 
Easter egg dyes, to m.atch my paper. I did that 
with some lace, and it worked awfully well ! What's 
the lightest color you have?" 

"These pale green ones are as light as any. But 
if you dye them blue you can't use them." 

"Why not?" 

"The government won't allow it." 

"How mean ! As if it made any difference to them 
what color stationery people use ! It almost makes 
me want to be a suffragette when I hear of such 
tyranny ! Not that I'd really be one ! I'm too fear- 
fully afraid of a mouse ! But I'd like to have a few 
rights about postage stamps. I do think the selec- 
tion is very limited. There's more beauty and va- 
riety in cigar bands. Well, I'll look at these violet 
ones. How much are they?" 

"These are three cents apiece." 

"H'm, two for five cents, I suppose. Well, I could 
get violet note paper, and use violet ink ; then these 
stamps would do nicely." 

"And they'd match your eyes fairly well, too." 

"Isn't that queer! Everybody says I have violet 
eyes, but, really they're not a bit the color of these 
stamps, you know." 

"No? Look at me and let me see; well, no, 
they're not exactly the same shade, but they're violet 
eyes, all right. How many stamps will you have?" 

"Two, please ; but won't you give them to me out 
23 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

of the middle of the sheet? Those around the edge 
seem a little faded." 

"We can't tear stamps out of the middle of a 
sheet!" 

"Oh, yes, you can, if you try — if I ask you to try! 
I'll take that one, and that one !" 

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. This one did 
you say? And this one?" 

"Yes, please. Will you wrap them up in a neat 
parcel, and send them? Good morning." 



24 



AT THE BRIDGE TABLE 

"^TES, indeed, Mrs. Sevier, I'm going to play at 
X this table. Where do I sit? Here? Perhaps 
you'd rather have this seat, with your back to the 
light, don't you know? Cut for partners? Ace low. 
Why, isn't that funny! I always thought the ace 
was the highest card of all, if you don't use a joker. 
And you don't in Bridge. Do you? No; I haven't 
played very much, but I'm quick at catching on. I 
always say Bridge is for those who are too old or too 
married to flirt. Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Sev- 
ier, of course you're not either ! Well, I know you've 
been married twice, but that isn't much nowadays. 
I'm perfectly sure I never shall be married at all. Of 
course, I'm only nineteen, but I think I look older. 
No? Well, one can't tell about one's looks. Mother 
says very few sensible men would want to marry 
me! But I tell her very few would be enough. 
Now, you needn't laugh at that, Mr. Chapman, it's 
quite true. Are you my partner? No? Oh, I play 
with Mr. Ritchie, and you play with Mrs. Sevier. 
Very well, let's begin." 

"Shall we play Lilies?" 

"Play Lilies? Why, Mr. Chapman, I thought we 
were to play Bridge ! I took half a dozen lessons a 
year ago. I haven't played since, but I've a marvel- 
ous memory. Oh, I see, you're just chaffing me, be- 
cause my name is Lilly! You mean you'll play 

as 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

Lilly's game. Nov/, you'll excuse me, won't you, if 
I sort my cards face down, on the table? Why, I 
seem to have five suits ! I declare, my hand is a per- 
fect rubbish heap ! Oh, Mrs. Sevier, have you joined 
that new City Beautiful Club? I'm on the Rubbish 
Committee, and I have to read a paper on the aes- 
thetic decoration of ash cans, or Art in Rubbish. It's 
such fun ! I love women's clubs. I'm going to join 
another. I forget what it's called, but they want 
poor, dumb animals to have a vote, or something like 
that. Well, come on, people, let's play Bridge. Oh, 
don't look like that, Mr. Ritchie ! Gay and festive, 
please! Is it my deal? Well, you just deal for me. 
I always come out wrong. 

"What are my conventions? Really, I haven't 
any. I'm the most unconventional person you ever 
saw. Why, mother says — ^but speaking of conven- 
tions, our Federated Clubs are going to have a stun- 
ning convention next week. That's where I'm going 
to read my paper. I've a screaming new costume — 
and a hat! Well, if I began to tell you about that 
hat it would interrupt our game. Wait till I'm 
Dummy, Mrs. Sevier, and I'll tell you. I expect 
these men wouldn't really care to — Oh, my discard? 
Yes, indeed — I — ^why, yes, of course I always discard 
spades. They count the least, you know." 

"Unless they're lilies." 

"Oh, Mr. Ritchie! How dear of you! Do you 
really set such store by my spades? Now, that's a 
partner worth having! I love to play Bridge, if I 
can have my own way. Do you know, of all things, 
I hate disapproval. I just can't stand it if people are 
cross to me !" 

26 



AT THE BRIDGE TABLE 

"You don't even avail yourself of a cross-ruff, do 
you?" 

"Oh, Mr. Ritchie, how witty! Did I overlook a 
chance? That reminds me of a lady in our club, 
Mrs. Ruff. You see, she hasn't a very becoming 
husband — at present — and she always looks so dis- 
contented, we call her the Cross Ruff ! Yes — ^yes — I 
am going to play. I was just thinking. 

"My heavens and earth, Mrs. Sevier, don't look 
at me like that! Your eyes are perfect sledgeham- 
mers! No, I wasn't peeking into Mr. Chapman's 
hand ! But I just chanced to catch a glimpse of his 
Queen of Hearts — Oh, Mr. Chapman, are you going 
to the Muchmore's fancy ball? Because, I'm going 
as Queen of Hearts, and if you wanted to go as 
King of Hearts — Hal Breston insists he's going to 
take that part, but — ^well, I want to pique him — Yes, 
yes, Mrs. Sevier, I know it's my play, I was just 
thinking. Bridge isn't a game you can play thought- 
lessly — ^like Tit-tat-toe. You see, the Dummy is on 
my right hand — don't you think that phrase has a 
funny sound? 'She sat on her hostess' right hand?' 
How could the poor hostess eat? Yes, yes — there, 
I'll play my king. Oh, he's taken it with the ace! 
Why, I thought that was out long ago ! Well, you 
made me play so fast, I scarcely knew what I was 
playing. I'm afraid you'll think I'm flighty, but 
really I have so many things on my mind, it's hard 
to think of only one at a time. Of course, it's dif- 
ferent with you, Mrs. Sevier. Your life is more in 
a rut — if you know what I mean. Well, being mar- 
ried, you can't help that. Yes, I know it's my play 
— I was just thinking. I guess I'll play a diamond. 
I know I'm returning my opponent's lead, but I 

27 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

have a reason. Now, don't scold me, Mr. Ritchie; 
I simply cannot play if people disapprove of what I 
do. Yes, smile at me like that, it's ever so much 
nicer! You seem a little put out, Mrs. Sevier! Are 
you holding poor hands? Come, come, if these two 
gentlemen and I are having such a pleasant game, 
you must enjoy it, too. What did you bid, Mrs. 
Sevier?" 

"I think I shall have to bid adieu." 

"Oh, must you go, really? Too bad! Well, good 
night, and thank you for such a pleasant time. 

"Now, let us play three-hand auction ; it's a splen- 
did game." 



28 



SHE GOES SHOPPING 

WHY, Mr. Willing, good afternoon! How 
pleasant to meet you on the avenue like 
this. But what are you doing in the shopping dis- 
trict? Hunting bargain neckties? There, there, 
don't look so utterly galvanized; I didn't mean it. 
Besides, I know perfectly well why you're here; 
you came on the mere chance of meeting me ! Ah, 
ha, you needn't look so embarrassed about it. I don't 
mind being seen with you; I'm not a bit exclusive. 
Well, it was a shame to tease him — so it was. Now, 
as a very special favor, how would you like to go 
into Price's with me, while I shop a little? 

"H'm, you don't seem awfully eager. What? 
Walk up the avenue instead? Well, we will, after- 
ward. But let's run in here just a minute while I 
buy a veil. It won't take any time at all. And then 
we can go for a walk. 

"Oh, what a crowd! I do think the people get 
thicker every year. Well, did you get through? I 
thought I'd lost you. When I saw you wedged in 
that revolving door with that fat lady you looked so 
funny. She was real cross, wasn't she? But you 
were so meek, I had to laugh. You looked like a 
feeble-minded jelly fish. 

"Now, now, Willy Willing, don't peeve. Smile a 
'ittle bitsy; yes, you do seem to be the only man 
here. But I'm glad to have you, it is so nice to 

29 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

have a man to pilot one through a shopping crowd. 
Oh, of course, the floor-walkers are just for that pur- 
pose, but they can't go outside their diocese, or 
whatever you call it. Now, you can go ahead and 
blaze a trail. The veil counter is over that way, I 
think, an5rway, it's quite near the ribbons and catty- 
cornered across from the artificial flowers. 

"Yes, here we are at last. Now, I'll sit on this 
stool and you stand right by me. Don't let women 
push in between us, for I want your advice. 

"Oh, look who's here! Why, Tottie May! I 
haven't seen you since we were in Venice. Do you 
remember Venice? And those two long lines of 
Hoffman houses each side of the Grand Canal! 
Wasn't it stunning? You, darling, how lovely to 
see you again. Yes, yes, I do, I do want to be wait- 
ed on, but do wait a minute, can't you? Yes, I want 
veiling, by the yard — there, that's the kind I want. 
Oh ! please don't let that woman carry it off ! 

"Good-by, darling, must you go? Yes, the large 
meshed kind. Oh, no, not that one covered with lit- 
tle blue beads. I should feel as if I had turquoise 
measles. I want a sort of gray — the shade they call 
'Frightened Mouse' — though why a mouse should 
ever be frightened when we are all scared to death 
of them — There, Mr. Willing, do you think this one 
is becoming? When I hold it up against my face, 
so. Where's baby? Peep-bo. Oh, gracious, that 
floor-walker thought I peep-boed at him. 

"Mercy me, I have rubbed all the powder off my 
nose. Oh, no, it won't hurt the veil. I beg your 
pardon, madame, did I push you with my elbow? 
Indeed, I'm not taking up all the room. I'm fear- 

30 



SHE GOES SHOPPING 

fully crowded. And I rather fancy I can try the ef- 
fect of a veil if I want to. 

"Now, Willy Willing, how do you like this one, 
with the big polka dots? Yes, I know, only one dot 
shows, they're so big and so far apart. But polka 
dots are so fashionable. 

"Do you know the polka is coming in again — the 
dance I mean? They call it the panther polka? It's 
awful sinuous — a sort of stealthy glide — makes you 
think of Sarah Bernhardt, or Elinor Weeks, but the 
best people have taken it up. 

"What? you're afraid they'll get taken up? Oh, 
Willie Willing, how witty you are. 

"There, do you like this veil? Don't you think 
it suits my hair? Mr. Dow says my hair is a yellow 
peril. I don't know what he means. 

"You like my face better without my veil? Why, 
how pretty of you. Now, just for that I'll let you 
select one. 

"You'd select a bridal veil? Oh, fie, fie, Mr. Will- 
ing. You don't really — Yes, I do want a veil. Please 
show me some of your other styles. And Mr. Will- 
ing, what do you think? At Gladys's wedding next 
week, she is going to have — Certainly, my dear girl, 
I'm ready to look at your goods, but these are not 
the veils I want. Show me something newer, these 
are all — Why, Gladys said that Polly Peters said — 
do you remember Polly Peters? Well, you'd never 
know her now. Slim ! She's nothing but a spine — 
Yes, my girl, I'm looking at your veils,- but I want 
the piece that lady has just picked up. Let's wait 
till she lays it down. 

"Now, Mr. Willing, you mustn't get impatient. 
You men don't realize what hard work shopping is, 

31 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

until now^ — Oh, my gracious! I have to be at our 
culture class by 4 o'clock. There's a lecture on 'Art 
Uplift in the Kitchen/ and I know it will be fine. 

"No, I don't cook, but it's such a satisfaction to 
know that one's soup is made in a Greek-shaped jug, 
instead of a crude iron kettle — Oh, mercy, no! I 
wouldn't wear a veil like that! Why, Mrs. Bailey 
had one like that once, and the very day I saw her 
wearing it I lost my amethyst hatpin. I've always 
considered a veil like that unlucky ever since. 

"Well, I don't seem to care for any of these veils, 
they're not a bit distinctive. And a veil is such an 
important part of a costume — it dresses up the face 
so. These patterns are most uninteresting. 

"Come on. Willing Willy, let's go down to Stor- 
er's and look at veils there — shall us ? 

"Why, you don't seem to want to go a bit. Now, 
don't go just to please me. I thought perhaps you 
were interested in — 

"Oh, do you want to go? Do you know I believe 
you men just love to go shopping, and you only pre- 
tend you don't. 

"I am sorry, dear, that your veils don't suit me, 
but, of course, I can't buy what I don't want just to 
help the store along ; you couldn't expect that, could 
you? 

"And, anyway, I wasn't exactly buying a veil— 
I was just shopping for one." 



32 



A QUIET AFTERNOON 

OH, how do you do, Mr. Willing? I'm so glad 
to see you ! I was just saying to myself it's 
such a dull afternoon I'd be glad to see anybody." 

"Even me !" 

"Now, you're just fishing for a compliment, but 
you won't get it. Sit down in that big easy chair 
and we'll have a nice, quiet, comfy afternoon, and 
you can talk to me." 

"I can do what?" 

"Oh, well, I'll talk to you, then. I want to ask 
your advice about something. I'm in a — ^well, a 
sort of a dilemma — and I want the judgment of a 
man of the world — an all-round knowing man — if 
you know what I mean. Oh, there's the telephone — 
pardon me, Mr. Willing — I'll just see who it is — 
no, you needn't leave the room — it's probably Tottie, 
or some of the girls. Hello! Oh, hello! Is that 
you. Jack? Why, you dear boy, I'm so glad to see 
you — hear you, I mean. 

"What? Not really? Oh, the idea! Now, don't 
you flatter me like that — oh, no, no — I couldn't pos- 
sibly ! — well, maybe — if you'll promise to be good. 

"What, now? Oh, no, Jack, you can't come up 
here now. I'm — ^just going out! No — ^you didn't 
hear a man's voice exclaiming! That was Fido! 
Yes, he has a human sort of a bark. Well, yes, it is 
a little like Willy Willing's voice — he's a perfect 

33 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

puppy! What! No! Of course, I mean Fido. No, 
Jack, you can't come now ; I tell you I'm going out. 
I have on my hat and coat already — yes, that was 
Fido again — ^he always makes that queer sound 
when anybody telephones. (Puts hand over trans- 
mitter.) Mr. Willing, you must keep still, or I won't 
tell all these fibs for your benefit ! But I don't want 
our nice quiet afternoon intruded upon — Yes, Jack, 
come to-morrow. I have something I want to con- 
sult you about. I really need the advice of a (covers 
transmitter again) — Mr. Willing, please step into 
the library for a moment. Look at the new books 
on the table — Yes, Jack, truly, I need the experi- 
enced advice of an all-round man of the world — like 
you — oh, yes, you are — you're awfully well balanced 
and all that — don't talk when I am talking — ^wait 
till I ring off— oh, Jane is just bringing me a card — 
wait a minute. Jack — why, it's Mr. Strong — I like 
that man awfully well — show him in, Jane. Good- 
by. Jack — no, I can't listen now — good-by." 

"How do you do, Mr. Strong? Do sit down. Take 
this easy chair. I'm so glad to see you — ^yes, isn't 
it dull weather? So good of you to come and 
brighten up an otherwise lonely afternoon. Excuse 
me, just a moment; there's a new book in the li- 
brary I want to show you. (Goes into next room.) 

"Now Mr. Willing, you must stay here till Mr. 
Strong goes. Because, if you show yourself, you'll 
have to leave here before he does " 

"I won't!" 

"Hush, he'll hear you — now, I won't be a bit en- 
tertaining to him, and he'll soon go— and then we 
can have our nice, quiet afternoon. Now, will you 
be goody-boy and stay here and not make a sound?" 

34 



A QUIET AFTERNOON 

"Yes, but I'll eavesdrop everything you say." 
"I don't care. I shan't mean a word of it!" 
"And if you don't fire him pretty swift I'll come 
in there and stir up a hurrah's nest !" 

"There! there! there! little one. Rest tranquil! 
Read a nice, pretty book or something, but don't 
smoke, or he'll know somebody's in here." 

(Lilly returns to drawing room.) "Yes, I'm so 
glad you came, Mr. Strong — what book? — Oh, yes, 
I was going to show you a book, but I — it wasn't 
there. Never mind, let's just chat — I want to ask 
you something, something serious, you know. May 
I?" 

"Oh — I don't know — you see, it's Leap Year!" 
"Now Mr. Strong, don't frivol. It doesn't suit 
your iron-bound countenance. And, truly, I'm in 
earnest ! You know, we women like to get the ideas 
of a man's brain! A man of judgment and experi- 
ence — a — well, what they call a man of the world — 
oh, yes, you are. I often quote your opinions — 
they're so profound. Now, what I want to ask you 
about is — oh, there's the telephone — excuse me — just 
a tiny minute — no, don't go. Oh, hello! Is that 
you. Flossy? Darling girl, do come over, can't you? 
— yes, now — right av/ay — oh, I wish you could — I 
want to hear all about it! — only last night? — a ruby 
and diamond! — oh, heavenly! — ^well, come to-mor- 
row morning, then — ^yes — yes, indeed, dearest — 
goodby — goodby — ^yes, I think so, too — perfectly 
horrid, but, oh, of course, yes — goodby — no, nothing 
of the sort — ^yes, I'll come right over — goodby — " 
"Oh, must you go, Mr. Strong?" 
"Well, yes, I did tell Miss Fay I'd go over to see 
her, but I meant after your call was over — please 

35 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

don't go yet — you must? Well, come again, do — I 
always enjoy a talk with you — you're so — so pro- 
found — if you know what I mean. Good afternoon, 
Mr. Strong. 

"Now, come back, Mr. Willing ! Didn't I tell you 
I'd get rid of him in short order? But he's such an 
everlasting talker it's hard to make him go. Now, 
we can have our nice, quiet afternoon. Excuse me 
just a minute first — I want to telephone just the 
leastest word to Tottie May ! 

"Oh, hello! Is this you, darling? What do you 
think? — oh, you know already? Did Flossy tell 
you? — oh, no, not really! Well, for gracious good- 
ness' sake! — yes, coral-pink chiffon, in one of those 
new smudge designs — oh, yes — a black chip Gains- 
borough, with practically all the feathers in the 
world piled on it — no, Thursday afternoon — why, 
about five — violets? Well, rather! Oh, Tottie — 
and, yes, Mr. Willing is here, but he can't hear what 
you say — ^no, he doesn't mind waiting — oh, Tottie! 
I can't believe it. Yes, she did ! And she said that 
Billy said if she ever did such a thing again — Oh, 
Tottie, what do you think? Mr. Willing has gone !" 



36 



TAKING CARE OF UNCLE 

HELLO, Uncle Abel ! Here's me ! Here's your 
little ray of sunshine. Aunt Hetty sprung 
a C. Q. D, at me over the telephone and said she 
had to go to a meeting of some Hen's Club or other, 
and would I come around here and sit with you. So 
I came just as soon as I could skittle over. You 
poor dear, are you awfully tired of staying in the 
house? Well, I suppose gout is annoying. Why 
don't you try Mental Science? They say it's fine! 
You know, you just think you haven't any gout, and 
then you don't have any! Though, for that rriatter, 
you might as well think you hadn't any foot." 

"And, then, wouldn't I have any?" 

"No, I suppose not. But that wouldn't do any 
good, because I've heard that soldiers, or any peo- 
ple with their feet cut off, feel them hurting just the 
same. But, never mind, my poor darling, I'm going 
to be so entertaining this afternoon that you won't 
know whether you have any feet or not." 

"Entertaining, hey? I suppose that mean's you'll 
chatter like a confounded magpie till I'm nearly 
crazy. I don't see why women have to be eternally 
talking!" 

"There, there. Uncle Abel, your foot is bad to- 
day, isn't it? Aunt Hetty said you were as cross 
as a teething baby — " 

"Oh, she said that, did she?" 
37 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

"Yes, and she said she hoped to goodness I could 
chirk you up some, for she'd just about reached the 
end of her patience!" 

"Pooh! She never had any patience! Now, if 
she were in my plight — full of chronic hereditary 
gout, and just getting over the grippe — " 

"Well, you ought to be thankful it isn't chronic 
hereditary grippe ! But men can't stand a bit of dis- 
comfort !" 

"Confound your impertinence, Miss! What are 
you talking about? I don't know what your aunt 
meant by getting you over here this afternoon! 
You've no more feeling or sympathy than a Dutch 
doll!" 

"Oh, yes I have, Uncle, dear ! Here, I'll rest your 
foot in an easier position — " 

"Ooo! E— E! Ouch!! Gosh, Lilly! I wish I 
had something to throw at you! Get away, girl!" 

"Oh, I'm so sorry for your poor, dear, suffering 
old wrapped-up bundle of foot! Here, let me put 
another sofa cushion under it. Say, Uncle, I saw 
the loveliest burnt leather sofa-pillow in Van Style's 
window as I came along! It would suit my room 
beautifully. There, there, dear, let me rub your fore- 
head with this cologne; isn't that soothing?" 

"Soothing nothing! You've doused it all in my 
eyes, they smart like fire! Oo, ouch! Lilly, get 
out!" 

"Well, try that mental science again. Think they 
don't smart. Think you haven't any eyes !" 

"I wish I hadn't any ears! Do stop chattering, 
Lilly!" 

"My! Aunt Hetty sized up your state of mind 
all right, didn't she? Well, Uncle, I guess I'll read 

38 



TAKING CARE OF UNCLE 

to you. Here's a lovely story in this new maga- 
zine. Listen : 'The pale young man fairly trembled 
as he looked at her. "Ethelyn," he murmured, in 
sighing tones, "you are so adorably subtle, so trag- 
ically intensive, that I feel — I feel — " ' " 

"I refuse to know how that young nincompoop 
felt! Shut up that fool book, Lilly! If you must 
read, read me some Wall Street news." 

"All right. Uncle Abel, here goes. I'll read from 
this morning's paper: 'Coffee declirled rather sharp- 
ly at the opening.' Why, how funny! What was 
the opening? A sort of a reception day? And if 
people declined coffee, why did they do so sharply? 
Why not say, 'No, thank you,' and take tea?" 

"I don't want that column; turn to 'Gossip of 
Wall Street.' " 

"Yes, here that is. But, Uncle, do the magnates 
and things gossip? I thought that was a woman's 
trick! Well, here we are: 'Steel rail changes dis- 
cussed all day !' Oh, Uncle, and then to call women 
chatterboxes ! When men talk all day long about a 
foolish little thing like changing a steel rail ! Why, 
I can change a whole hat in less time than that! 
Say, Uncle, there was the dearest hat in the Feath- 
erton's window — " 

"I'll bet it was dear if it was in that shop !" 

"Well, but it had been reduced; marked down to 
$27.99. Such a bargain ! Uncle, you know my birth- 
day comes next week — " 

'Well, which do you want, the hat or the sofa- 
pillow you hinted for a while ago?" 

"Oh, Uncle, how lovely of you ! But it's hard to 
choose between them. Suppose I had them both 
sent home on approval — and then I can see — " 

39 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

"Yes, I know what that means!" 

"Oh, here comes the maid, with your beef tea. 
No, Jane, let me take it; I'll give it to him. You 
may go, Jane. I'll just taste this. Uncle, to be sure 
it isn't too hot for you. Oh, how good it is ! I've 
often thought I'd like to be an invalid just on ac- 
count of the lovely things they get to eat. Why, 
this beef tea is delicious! And such a pretty cup 
and saucer. Do you know, Ethel Wylie has a whole 
set like this. 'Coalport,' isn't it? Say, Uncle, what 
do you think about the coal strike? Do tell me 
all about it — I'm shockingly ignorant of politics. Do 
they call it a strike because the men get mad and 
strike each other? Or what?" 

"Lilly, if you don't want all that beef tea, I be- 
lieve I could relish a little." 

"Oh, Uncle, how thoughtless of me ! I've sipped 
nearly all of it! I suppose I sort of thought I was 
at a tea. But I think there's as much as you ought 
to take. Dear Uncle, it's so nice to see you eat 
something nourishing. I'm sure it will do you good. 
It must be awful to have the grippe. And you have 
headache, haven't you? Now, don't say no — I can 
see it in your poor, dear eyes. I'm going to tie this • 
wet bandage round your forehead — so — oh, no, it 
isn't dripping down your neck — it can't be. Well, 
it will soon stop. Now I'll rub this menthol on the 
bridge of your nose — now, now. Uncle, don't scowl 
like that. If you won't try mental science we must 
use remedies." 

"Lilly, if you don't let me alone I'll throw this 
cup and saucer at you!" 

"Oh, Uncle, dear, don't be so peevish! There, 
now, I'll pat your poor foot and sing to you." 

40 



TAKING CARE OF UNCLE 

"Ooch ! Oh, the devil ! Lilly, get out ! There ! !" 
"Oh, Uncle, you've smashed that lovely 'Coal- 
port!' Did those gentle little pats hurt your foot? 
I don't believe it ! I declare a man is worse to take 
care of than a baby! Thank goodness, here comes 
Aunt Hetty !" 



41 



IN THE DEPARTMENT STORE 

I HAVE some material here I wish to exchange 
— I say I have — Will you kindly wait on me? 
— Busy? — I have some — Now, I must be waited on ; 
I'm in a great hurry ! Oh, very well. I have some 
material here I wish to exchange. It's marquisette, 
but it isn't the right shade. Not marquisette ? — Chif- 
fon marquisine? Well, I don't care if it's linsey- 
woolsey ! I want to exchange it, or rather, return it. 
No, I don't have a charge account ; I want the money 
back. Please give it to me quickly. I'm going to 
a matinee — ^What ! You can't take it back here ? I 
must go to the desk? Why, I bought it here, right 
at this counter, of that thin girl with the hectic 
flush. She doesn't look well, does she? She ought 
to go to some good sanatorium. Well, you see this 
chiffon, or whatever it is, is the wrong shade. I 
asked for elephant's breath, and this is more on the 
shade of frightened mouse. It doesn't match my 
satin at all. — Oh, dear, how unaccommodating you 
are! Well, where is the desk? Ask the floor-walk- 
er? Oh, very well! — Please direct me to the desk. 
What desk? I don't know, I'm sure! Any desk 
will suit me. I want to return some goods that 
doesn't match my own material, and you know, this 
season, if — Near the rear door? — Of course they'd 
put it as far away as possible ! 

Is this the exchange desk? Well, I want to re- 
42 



IN THE DEPARTMENT STORE 

turn this piece of goods — Oh, no! It isn't soiled! 
That's the original color. Frightened mice often 
look soiled when they're not at all ! Yes, that is the 
name ! No, it isn't taupe, nor mode, nor steel com- 
mon, it's just frightened mouse. I can carry colors 
in my eye just like an artist. Now it doesn't mat- 
ter what color it is, anyway, for it's the wrong color ! 
— Cut off the piece? Of course it's cut off the piece ! 
There's two yards and a half of it — Remnant? No, 
it was not ! I don't buy leftovers ! — Then you can't 
change it? Well, come to think, maybe it was a 
remnant! Yes, I believe it was! I don't often get 
them, but this just matched my satin, — I mean it 
didn't match my satin, and that's why I bought it. 
No, I mean — well, anyway, I want to return it. — 
Had it a long time? Well, I couldn't help that! 
The dressmaker disappointed me, — that is, I had to 
go to some bridge parties and things unexpectedly, 
so I had to put her off. But the minute she pinned 
it on the pattern I saw it was the wrong shade. 
Pinholes in it? Nonsense! They don't show. Of 
course we had to pin it. Seems to me you're mak- 
ing a lot of fuss about a simple exchange — I mean 
a return. I'd like the money back at once. A credit 
check? No, I want the money; I haven't any with 
me, because I depended on getting this. What! 
You don't give back the money? Why, it says in 
your advertisements, "Satisfaction given or money 
refunded." Some other shop? Well, I'm sure I 
thought it was this shop that did that or I'd never 
have bought the stuff here! Rules? Regulations? 
Oh, dear! Well, then, take it and give me a credit 
check. Yes, I'll sign my name! Dear me, what a 
lot of red tape ! I suppose you have to go through 

43 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

all this to keep from being swindled — Yes, that's my 
name and address. 

Now, can I get anything in the store for this 
check? Why, that's rather fun! Seems as if you 
were giving it to me for nothing! Oh, how pretty 
that chiffon looks as you hold it up to the light ! Do 
you know, it doesn't match my satin, but it would 
go beautifully with my voile gown, and I want that 
made over. I do believe I'd better keep it. It was 
a good bargain, I remember. I wonder if it would 
match it. I'm sure it would, — I carry colors in my 
eye so well, — and it's a lovely quality. I think, if 
you please, I'll take it back. What, sign my name 
again? Well, there, I've signed off again. My! it's 
like going to law or a divorce court, — not that I've 
ever done either, and, after this experience, I hope 
I never shall! But just hold that stuff up again. 
Oh, now that they've turned on the electrics, it's a 
totally different shade! Oh, I don't want it now 
at all! Can't you turn off the lights again? I'd no 
idea it was getting so late! — Oh, well, if you're go- 
ing to be disagreeable, I'll take it, then. The value 
is nothing at all to me ! My husband is a prosperous 
broker. Yes, I'll take it. Please send it home for 
me, and if I don't like it when I get it, I'll send it 
back. 



44 



THE HOUSEWIFE'S HELPER 

OH, — ^how do you do? Are you Miss Allfriend? 
— the Housewife's Helper? You must excuse 
me, but I never saw a Visiting Housekeeper before, 
and I'd no idea they looked so, — so correct ! Well, 
since you're here, please begin to housekeep at once. 
I'm in such a flurry. You see, I'm standardizing my 
housework, and it makes so much confusion. You 
understand— don't you, — all about Lost Motion and 
Increased Efficiency? I'm a perfect crank on those 
two things. They mean so much to us enlightened 
women. Am I a suffragette ? Oh, mercy, no ! I'm 
happily married. But I believe in Ethics and Stand- 
ardization and all those modern conveniences. 

"Now, Miss Allfriend, if you'll please set the din- 
ner table. I'm having a little dinner to-night for 
Senator Caldwell and his wife. They're terribly 
swagger, and, of course, I don't want to put on any 
airs, but I do want things to be nice. So, you set 
the table — ^Where are the things? Why, hunt them 
up from the cupboards and buffets? If I get the 
things out, I may as well do the work myself! I 
thought you were to help ! Here's the center-piece 
I want used. Oh, — it is creased, isn't it? Well, 
just press it off. Do it carefully, — there's so much 
in pressing. Well, yes,^t is a little spotted. I 

45 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

guess you'll have to wash it. Use only a pure white 
soap, — and don't let the colors run. 

"And you'd better dust the dishes. Some of them 
haven't been used lately. Of course you know how 
to set a table? If you're uncertain look in the 'Per- 
fect Lady's Home Guide.' It's in that drawer, I 
think, — or, no, — perhaps it's upstairs, — or maybe I 
loaned it to Miss Jennings, — she's going to be mar- 
ried next week, and she has the loveliest — 

"Oh, Miss Allfriend, don't begin on the table, 
now. It's only three o'clock, and Mrs. Ritchie's 
children are coming to spend the afternoon with 
Gladys Gwendolyn. I wish you'd fix up a sort of 
little party for them. The Ritchies are new people, 
and I want the children to have a good time here. 
Can't you telephone to the caterer for some ices and 
cakes? Nothing elaborate, — I think children's par- 
ties ought to be kept simple. Who is our caterer? 
Why, — well, — ^the truth is, we haven't one just now, 
— for I scolded Lafetti so that I don't like to call 
him again. You see he was rude because we hadn't 
paid — ^well, — anyway, he was impertinent, — so — 
don't you know of some nice caterer to telephone 
to? Order only simple things, — say a Jack Horner 
pie, with pretty little gifts in it, — and ices in novel 
shapes, — and plenty of bon-bons, — children love 
candy so. 

"But before you do that, please just finish off 
Gladys Gwendolyn's little frock. It's nearly done, 
but the seamstress had to leave it to finish my din- 
ner gown, so you just look after baby's dress. It 
only needs one sleeve set, — and make it a bit larger 
round the belt, — it's too tight for her, — I don't be- 
lieve in cramping the little growing bodies. 

46 



THE HOUSEWIFE'S HELPER 

"I'm awfully careful with Gladys Gwendolyn. I 
boil her toys and I bake her books every day. And 
won't you see, — since you're here, — that she uses her 
germicide spray on the even hours, and her antisep- 
tic douche every other half hour? It is a help to 
have you here, I'm sure. And I wish you would 
entertain the kiddies. Not professionally, — you 
know, — just tell them stories and make up games 
for them. Oh, and be sure to arrange prizes, — chil- 
dren just love prizes. Are you knacky about such 
things ? Some people are, — and others are so differ- 
ent! 

"Can you play Bridge? I've just two tables run- 
ning over for a rubber at four, and I'm most sure 
one lady won't come ! And you look so, — so, — pre- 
sentable, I'd be glad if you'd take a hand, if neces- 
sary, — and I'm pretty certain it will be. 

"Now I must fly and take my nap. Then I have 
to go for my short walk. I have to exercise, or I 
gain at once. Now please attend to the things I've 
asked of you. If you standardize, you can easily 
have time for all. And in your spare moments, 
here's a piece of my cross-stitch embroidery, — ^you 
may as well do a little. Be sure to cross the stitches 
the way I do. 

"And please answer the telephone when it rings; 
— oh, say anything you like. You must have wit 
enough to know what to say ! If you're qualified for 
a Visiting Helper, you ought to know such things! 

"And be very careful what you say before Gladys 
Gwendolyn. I'm bringing her up in an ethically ar- 
tistic atmosphere. I want her to come in contact 
only with what is true and beautiful. And unless 

47 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

I'm ethically pure myself, how can I expect her to 
be? So bear that in mind, Miss Allfriend. 

"Oh, and by the way, our telephone is on a party 
wire. If you overhear any interesting gossip, be 
sure to remember it, and tell me!" 



48 



MRS. LESTER'S HOBBLETTE 

YES, I went to New York yesterday, and, if 
you'll believe me, my dear, I never had such 
a day in all my life ! You see, I thought I'd shop 
a little in the morning, and then meet John for 
luncheon, and go to the matinee afterward. Well, 
we did all that, but such a time as I had doing it ! 

"I didn't go in town with John. He goes on that 
eight-thirty-nine — all our best commuters do; but 
it's too early for me to get off. He said we'd lunch 
at a swell hotel — John's a perfect dear about such 
things, if we have been married nearly two years. 
So, of course, I wanted to look my bestest, and I put 
on my new blue gown. I'd never had it on before, 
and — Yes, it is a hobble skirt; but I begged Miss 
Threadley not to make it extreme. I do hate ex- 
treme fashions. So she said she'd make a modified 
hobble, a hobblette, she calls it — and she assured 
me it would be all right. It's a perfect beauty, my 
dear; but, good land! It's exactly the shape of a 
bolster slip, and round the knees it's fitted tightly 
and boned. 

"Well, anyway, I got into the thing and started 
for the ten-forty-eight train. As I started to walk 
away I fell over at the very first step! Luckily I 
fell into a chair; but I bruised my knee and ankle 
dreadfully. Jane brought hot water and witch hazel 
and fixed me up, and I started again, for I didn't 

49 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

want to lose that train. How I got downstairs I 
don't know. It was a series of jumps and jounces. 
But, after this, I shall slide down on a tea tray, as 
I used to do when I was a child. 

"Of course I knew it was only a matter of learn- 
ing to walk in the thing, and I was bound to learn. 
I went along the street pretty well as long as I re- 
membered to take little, tiny steps, but as I reached 
Maple Avenue I heard the train coming. You know 
there's a good two blocks to go after that, so I ran ! 
My dear, if you could have seen me! Talk about 
contortionists! Of course my running was just a 
sort of jiggety-jig trotting, but I had to keep going 
to preserve my equilibrium. I reached the train 
just as it was ready to move out of the station. I 
tried to step on, but you know how high the lowest 
step is. I simply couldn't reach it. I tried first one 
foot and then the other, and neither would come 
anywhere near that step without tearing my skirt. 
And it wouldn't tear! If it would, I should have 
let it go, for I was filled with mortification. At last 
the conductor and the brakeman took me by my el- 
bows and swung me up or I never should have got 
aboard at all. 

"Then in New York it was dreadful. You know 
how I cross the street? I simply have to do it my 
own way, for it makes me nervous to depend on 
those policemen. I always cross in the middle of a 
block to escape them. I just watch for a good 
chance, you know, and then I run across fast, and 
I always manage all right. But, yesterday, I tried 
to run, and that awful skirt held me back, and when 
I was about half way across I stumbled in it, and 
the trolley cars and motors just clambered all 

50 



MRS. LESTER'S HOBBLETTE 

around me ! How I got over alive I don't know. I 
shouldn't have, only two nice men and a boy seemed 
to spring up from somewhere to help me. Well, 
then I went on, and I suddenly discovered the lovely 
satin hem was getting awfully soiled. So I tried to 
hold it up, but — My dear, have you ever tried to 
hold up a hobblette? Well, don't! 

"It's much more unmanageable than a sheath! 
I wanted to turn it up, like a man does his trousers 
legs, but I felt I was attracting enough attention 
as it was. Then, my dear, it was time to go to meet 
John, and I tried to get on a street car. Well, the 
board of aldermen, or whatever they are, will have 
to have those car steps made lower ! I had my pay- 
as-you-go nickel all ready, but I just couldn't get up 
to the place where you go. And the wretched con- 
ductor wouldn't help me a bit ! He just grinned, as 
if it were an old story to him. I tried three or four 
cars, but they all had high steps and unhelpful con- 
ductors ; so I took a taxicab. 

"They do have sense enough to build the steps 
of the taxicabs fairly low, so I got in all right and 
went straight to the hotel. Well, I had been shop- 
ping, you know, and I had spent much more than I 
thought I had — I always do, don't you ? — and, if you 
please, I didn't have money enough in my purse to 
pay that cabman! But that isn't the worst of it! 
I did have more money with me, but it was in my 
stocking. I always carry some extra bills there, and 
I'm rather an adept at getting it out, if need be, 
without anyone knowing what I'm doing- But that 
skirt wouldn't budge ! I stepped back into the cab 
and shut the door, but I simply couldn't raise that 
hobblette enough to get my money. What could I 

51 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

do? Well, as good luck would have it, John came 
along just then, and I opened the cab door as if I 
had just arrived. John paid the bill. 

"We had a lovely luncheon — ^John is a dear man 
to go about with — and then we went to a matinee. 
But, O, my dear, if my knees didn't get cramped! 
Both feet went to sleep, but they wanted to walk 
in their sleep, and they couldn't. Well, when we did 
come out I could scarcely stand, let alone walk! 
And John hurried me to the station. And when 
we reached the boat it was just beginning to move 
from the dock. 

" 'Jump !' said John. 'It's perfectly safe. I've got 
hold of you. We'll jump together now.* 

" 'I won't !' said I firmly, and I didn't. "Why, my 
dear, if I had we'd have both gone into the water. 

"So we waited for the next boat, but John didn't 
know why, and never will!" 



52 



AT THE COOKING CLASS 

OH, am I late? I'm so sorry! My dear Miss 
Cooke, have I kept your class waiting? Now 
don't look at me like that! Cheery and blithe, 
please. And Milly, — just wait a minute till I fold 
up this veil; they get so rubbishy if you don't, — 
truly, I started early enough, but, you see, I met 
Roddy Dow, and — we took a walk around the block, 
— it's such a sunny, shiny, country kind of a day, we 
just had to. Of course, I told him I was in a hurry 
to get to class, and I babbled on about all the 
whipped angel food and eggless omelets we're going 
to learn to make, and he said, — girls, what do you 
think he said? He said I was fluffy-minded! Me! 
the greatest living example of a young woman with 
earnest aims and high ideals! Well, — so I said — 
yes, yes, Miss Cooke, I am folding it up as fast as 
I can, — I'll be ready in a minute, — don't make that 
foolish noise, pretty lady. Shall I sit here by Flossy 
Fay? Oh, what winsome looking creatures! Live 
crabs? Are they? And we're to learn to make 
"Crab Flakes a la Pittsburg"? Oh, how perfectly 
gorgeous! Do you know. Flossy, I met that Pitts- 
burg man last night, — that Mr. Van Roxie. Yes, the 
one with one lung and thirty millions. He's too 
ducky for words ! He didn't approve of me at first, 
— I sat next to him at dinner, you know, — ^because 
I asked him whether he'd rather talk politics or have 

53 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

a lover's quarrel. He looked at me sort of gimletty, 
— if you know what I mean, — and he said I was a 
Pink and White Mistake! Me! the Only Original 
Magazine-Cover Girl! Well — ^so I said, — yes. Miss 
Cooke, I'm listening. Certainly I know what you 
said; you said, — well, you said something about 
eggs. No, I don't recall exactly what, — to me, 
there's always an air of mystery about eggs, anyway. 
And, besides, most all the recipes are eggless, now- 
adays, — it's the latest fad. Oh, cream the yolks? 
Now, isn't that funny? My new mauve messaline 
has a cream yoke, — that heavy lace, you know, — I 
think they call it, — My heavens and earth! Miss 
Cooke! One of the crabs is loose! Oh, girls, get 
up on your chairs ! That's right. Flossy, — climb up 
on this table, by me! 

"O-o-ooh ! Police ! Turn in an alarm, somebody ! 
Miss Cooke! Don't try to pick him up! He'll at- 
tack you, — and rend you limb from limb ! 

"Don't you step on him! I'm a termagant S. P. 
C. A. and I won't see a poor dumb crab cruelly treat- 
ed in my presence! There! He's run under that 
cupboardy thing! You'll have to poke him out 
again ! 

"Oh, Flossy, don't jump about so ! This table will 
break down; it feels wriggly now. 

"Please, Miss Cooke, don't scold me ! I can't help 
feeling nervous when that terrifying monster is 
walking abroad. Well, I will keep still, but maybe 
I won't resign from this Cooking Class, if we have 
to have such frisky viands! 

"And, Miss Cooke, I hate to seem intrusive, — but 
54 



AT THE COOKING CLASS 

there's another crab flew the coop, — and he's grab- 
bing your apron string, — it's untied. 

"Oh, I thought that would make you jump ! "Calm 
yourself," — as you said to me ; "he won't hurt you, if 
you pick him up properly," — you said. 

"Oo-oo-ee-ee ! They're all out ! The whole dozen ! 
Oh, Miss Cooke, scramble up here, for your life ! 

"Cissy Gay, if you get up here, too, this table will 
break down ! Get on the big table ; never mind the 
eggs. Will you look at those awful beasts ! They're 
all over the floor. Oh, I'm so frightened! I wish 
Roddy Dow had come in with me ! I wish Mr. Will- 
ing was here. I even wish I had that Pittsburg man 
to take care of me ! Let's all scream, and maybe the 
Janitor will come. Oh, there you are ! Please, Jani- 
tor, brush up these crabs somebody spilled, won't 
you? 

Well! I never saw a man afraid, before! Get 
down off that chair, Dolan! What do you mean? 
I'll report you to the owner of this building! No, 
they won't hurt you ! You just pick 'em up by one 
hind leg, and they can't bite. I'd do it myself, — 
only I've just been manicured. 

"Talk about new-fangled housekeeping devices, — 
what is most needed is a crab pick-upper. That 
would fill a longer felt want than all their fireless 
napkins and paper cookers. 

"You know, they cook now in paper bags. No, 
I don't know much about it, but I'm going to learn. 
They say it's a great time-saver. I suppose they just 
take the paper bags of rice or beans or anything, as 
they come from the grocer's, and put them on to 
boil. I expect they take the strings off before they 

55 



THE ETERNAL FEMININE 

send the bags to the table. It's largely theoretical, of 
course. All these new movements are. 

"But I'm for 'em! This cooking class, now; I 
only wish I could have brought Mr. Dow. 

"Sitting this way, cross-legged on a kitchen ta- 
ble, with a frilly, bibby apron on, I know I look ex- 
actly like a Gibsty picture. And it's all wasted on 
you girls! 

"Crabs all corralled? Thank you, Dolan. Now, 
Miss Cooke, shall we go on with the lesson? 

"Oh, you're sorry, but the time is all used up ! 

"Well, never mind, Cooksy-Wooksy. I think they 
must have been suffragette crabs, — they agitated so 
terribly. 

"And I don't mind missing this lesson, — I've had 
enough deviled crabs for one day !" 



56 



JESOP UP TO DATE 
THE MILKMAID AND HER PAIL OF MILK 

A MILKMAID having been a Good Girl for a 
long Time, and Careful in her Work, her 
mistress gave her a Pail of New Milk all for herself. 

With the Pail on her Head she tripped Gayly 
away to the Market, saying to Herself: 

"How Happy I am! For this Milk I shall get a 
Shilling ; and with that Shilling I shall buy Twenty 
of the Eggs Laid by our Neighbor's fine Fowls. 
These Eggs I shall put under Mistress's old Hen, 
and even if only Half of the Chicks grow up and 
Thrive before next Fair time comes Round, I shall 
be able to Sell them for a Good Guinea. Then I 
shall Buy me a Monte Carlo Coat and an Ermine 
Stole, and I will Look so Bewitching that Robin will 
Come Up and Offer to be Friends again. But I 
won't make up Too Easily ; when he Brings me Vio- 
lets, I shall Toss My Head So-and— " 

Here the Milkmaid gave her Head the Toss she 
was thinking about, and the Pail of Milk was Dis- 
lodged from its resting-Place on her Head. 

But, being a Member of a Ladies' Physical Cul- 
ture Club, she Deftly Caught the Pail and Re- 
placed It. 

All Turned Out as she had planned, and when 
57 



.ffiSOP UP-TO-DATE 

Robin married her he gave her an Electric Automo- 
bile. 

Moral : 
Don't Discount Your Chickens Before they are 
Hatched. 



58 



;ep 29 



